


green-apple candy

by silvercistern



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Ridiculous, Shampoo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercistern/pseuds/silvercistern
Summary: Bokuto gets green-apple candy shampoo for his birthday. Akaashi loses his goddamn mind.





	green-apple candy

**Author's Note:**

> it's the 20th in japan. happy birthday, sweetheart.
> 
> here's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZzcY7ASQno) to go with this story.

“Green-apple candy!” Koutarou looks at the bottle’s label as though it’s full of Cristal. “Okaasan, Otousan you shouldn’t have!”

After long years of suffering, Keiji is immune to the embarrassment that comes with his desperately overeager family. He no longer cares about their ridiculous gifts. He knows they come from the only place that matters: the heart.

And, in this case, the neighborhood convenience store.

Koutarou is turning thirty tomorrow. A milestone birthday. And Keiji’s parents have bought their son-in-law candy-scented shampoo. And not just any shampoo. It’s the cheapest, lowest-quality shit imaginable, paired with some hair gel in the same terrible fragrance. All because once upon a time he’d mentioned Koutarou enjoyed green-apple flavored candies.

It’s really quite a relief that Keiji has decided not to be bothered by their behavior anymore, because this situation would really, _really_ bother him.

Flipping open the cap, Koutarou takes a deep inhale. He smiles as he flips the cap closed and Keiji’s parents smile too. Keiji dives into his cake with the aggressive vigor that only someone who does not care about his parents’ madness can truly pull off.

And oh, does he pull it off.

In the car ride home, Koutarou babbles on about how well Keiji’s mother was looking, and how glad he was to hear that Keiji’s father will be retiring next year. He doesn’t mention anything about the gift, which is sitting upright in Koutarou’s bag, as though some care was taken in putting it where it is. As though he truly appreciates it. He probably does.

 

Keiji tricks himself into believing that that’s the end of green-apple candy shampoo.

 

Wednesday morning comes bright and early, and it’s Keiji’s turn to make breakfast. Even if it wasn’t, he would because it is his husband’s birthday. He starts the coffee then steps into the shower. Ten minutes later he blearily exits the bathroom to find Koutarou returning from his morning run. He cracks eggs over two servings of rice just as Koutarou emerges from the bathroom himself. He’s wearing a towel around his hips and nothing else. After a long birthday kiss, complete with hair pulling, he wanders around their small kitchen, getting in Keiji’s way.

Even with only half of his morning injection of caffeine to humanize his outlook, it’s obvious to Keiji how gorgeous his husband looks. Water is dripping down the nape of his neck, collecting in his collarbone, and sliding in an uninterrupted line down his pecs, his abs, only to be stopped by the towel. It’s obvious because Keiji is not an idiot: he is a smart man and he married up.

Koutarou is generally not considered as smart a man — though he is a much kinder, stronger one — but he’s smart enough to notice when he’s being ogled. So he wraps Keiji in his arms, pressing all of that warm, dripping skin against Keiji’s dress shirt. Dampening of his shirt aside, this sort of domestic bliss is something that Keiji is normally very fond of. He relaxes into the embrace until suddenly he stops relaxing altogether.

Green-apple candy.

Koutarou’s wet hair reeks of it, the sharp, synthetic apple smell radiating from each strand. He smells like a middle school girl’s backpack, like a convenience store bathroom, so far removed from the real scent of “apple” (one of Keiji’s favorites) that it very well should be a crime. He smells like chemical atrocity and neon-colored doom, and he’s giving Keiji a sensual hug while doing so.

Keiji pulls away to finish making the breakfast, and Koutarou pouts, getting his towel stuck on a chair and giving Keiji a very nice but very unasked-for view of his triumphant ass. The sort of ass that gets up at five in the morning to run every day. Even on the weekends.

Proof that everything comes with a price.

 

Through the day, Keiji can smell nothing but green-apple candy.

 

And it’s strangely enticing, because he knows where it came from, the magnificent specimen that he got an eyeful of that morning. It’s not as though he married his husband for his looks, but the older they get, the more he wonders what he might have done in a past life to partner him with someone who is not only kind, fun, and quite insightful, but also gorgeous to boot.

Somehow green-apple candy has taken on a twinge of that, and Keiji is not certain how to process that realization.

“Akaashi-kun, you smell… interesting,” his cubemate says. Anyone else would have kept her damn mouth shut, but Asikaga is desperate for any and all news of Keiji’s personal life. This sudden surge of green-apple candy must be a huge windfall for her.

“I ran out of shampoo and forgot to buy some,” he feels the need to both answer and lie. “This is all the store had.”

“Pungent,” she wrinkles her nose. “And strange, because I could swear that you have two-day hair. It always looks better on days you don’t wash it.”

She’s right. The fact that she’s right is incredibly disturbing, but she is completely correct.

“So here’s what I think. Stop me if I’m wrong, but I think whoever it was who put that ring on your finger is probably involved. Or!” she bites her lip and her eyes glimmer, “maybe it was a third party? Some green-apple candy beauty that you just couldn’t resist?”

He thinks of Koutarou’s ass again, but tells her nothing.

 

He thinks of Koutarou’s ass for the entire workday.

 

Koutarou’s present this year is a simple one - tickets to a professional volleyball game… for _everyone_. They all come: Kuroo and Kenma, Konoha and his wife, Komi and his current girlfriend, Washio and his five-year-old son… even Sarukui manages to leave his office early to attend. The game itself is not as interesting as it could be. Tokyo, a team full of former Olympians, is so much better than the Arrows it’s almost laughable. But Koutarou has his eyes on a few of the Arrows — can’t pull them away, in fact. He goes on about how with a few years experience, the young players will be the best in the game.

Being a former Olympian himself, he would know.

“What’s the deal with your hair, man?” Konoha demands at the izakaya they end up at afterwards. “It smells like shitty hand lotion.”

They’re all a bit drunk (except Washio and his son, who are on the train headed home). Koutarou’s eyes cross a little as he thinks, and then says, “Don’t insult my hair stuff! Keiji’s parents got it for me! I like it!”

Konoha’s only response is a snort, but even that is cut short when Kuroo buys another round of drinks.

Keiji leans closer to Koutarou and takes a slow deep breath, the chemical smell of green-apple candy filling his lungs. It’s stronger than it was this morning — he must have used the gel as well. The scent has gone beyond enticing to arousing and he’s ready to take his husband home and give him his _other_ birthday present _over and over_.

“Are you smellin’ me?” Koutarou turns to reveal a lopsided grin.

“No,” Keiji lies. 

 

He sits between Kenma and Sarukui on the train to keep as far away from Koutarou’s hair as possible.

 

Keiji is ready and willing to fuck Koutarou in the genkan alongside the dirty shoes. He knocks him onto his back the instant the door closes behind them. He tries to climb onto his lap, but he’s too turned on and drunk to manage himself, so they just roll into the footwear.

“What’s gotten into you Keiji?!?” Koutarou sits up, a shoelace looped over his ear. He doesn’t look angry, but he doesn’t look quite as turned on as he could.

 _Green-apple candy_ , Keiji wants to say, but that would be too much information.

“It’s your birthday and I want to fuck you,” he says instead.

Red creeps up Koutarou’s ear until it’s even with the shoelace. “Oh! Well uh… that’s good then, because you look really nice today and—”

Keiji shuts him up with his mouth. At least for a minute.

“Can I get a shower first?” Koutarou asks, as though he isn’t in charge of the situation. A surge of gleeful possessiveness roars through Keiji’s body.

“Only if we take one together.”

 

Working the other open in the shower hasn’t ever worked well for them. The water is not a good lubricant, and everything else is easily washed away. So he leans against the far wall of the shower and watches as Koutarou washes his hair with the cheap green-apple candy shampoo. It fills the air with the terrible, intoxicating scent. Worked up even more, Keiji crosses his arms and watches as Koutarou rinses his hair and then puts a finger inside himself. And then two. And then three.

He ghosts his fingers over his own dick. He’s hard as a rock despite the alcohol and the sobering cold in the back of the shower.

“Do I look good, Keiji?” Koutarou asks, as desperate for praise in bed as he’s ever been anywhere else. Or in this case in the shower as a predecessor to being in bed.

“Perfect,” Keiji hisses.

Koutarou grins and bites his lip a little. Keiji’s dick twitches in his hand.

 

To his everlasting regret, Koutarou is too heavy to throw onto the bed. So Keiji has developed what he considers a rather sensual way of pushing and tripping that has his husband bouncing on the mattress. They’re both soaked, having spent hardly any time at all drying off. The floor of the apartment is probably drenched, but the only thing Keiji cares about is fucking Koutarou until both of them have lost the power of speech.

And, if he’s lucky enough, their sense of smell.

Koutarou is lying on his back, chest heaving. Water is trailing down his sides to drop on the comforter, and there is already an enormous wet spot on the pillow from his hair.

With little fanfare, Keiji climbs onto the bed between Koutarou’s sprawled legs, lifting them up so his feet are planted on the mattress.

“What did you do today?” he asks just before taking his cock in his mouth.

“I… ha… I um… well, I did a… lot of paperwork. And… _oh fuck Keiji yeah just like that_ … I ah… went out to- out to lunch with the uniiiiiversity’s… _fuck fuck fuck fuck_ ……… ath- athletics director.”

Koutarou’s feet are coming very close to kicking Keiji in the stomach, which means he’s doing an excellent job. So he does the logical thing and pulls away, to Koutarou’s immediate displeasure.

“That sounds like a pleasant day,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mine was fine. I thought about you incessantly.” Sliding his free hand up and down the inside of Koutarou’s thighs, he asks, “Be a darling and get the lube, my love.”

The bottle comes back so quickly it almost hits him in the face. 

Keiji lubes up his first three fingers and trails his dry pinkie down the V of Koutarou’s inguinal muscle. He slides his the same finger under his balls, and pushes two of the lubricated fingers inside him. He has no intention of wasting time but apparently that isn't obvious.

“You’re such a tease,” Koutarou pants. “Bet you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout fucking with me all day.”

“I’ve been thinking about fucking _you_ all day,” Keiji corrects, inserting a third finger. “Approximately the same thing. It is your birthday, after all.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it too,” Koutarou grins over his heaving chest, “havin’ me all to yourself.”

“Are you saying that I’m taking your birthday present for myself?” Keiji begins to gently separate his fingers. “Because I can stop and leave you with our to—”

“Stopppppp,” Koutarou whines, inadvertently clenching down as he does so.

“Fine then,” Keiji pulls his hand away. “I suppose I can pound you into oblivion if you really want.”

Koutarou usually likes slow, romantic lovemaking. Keiji likes to fuck hard and fastAs it is the former’s birthday, some marathon romantic sex should be on the menu, but green-apple candy seems to have changed all of that. Luckily neither of them seem to be complaining about it. 

Keiji pours a human-body-sized amount of lube on his cock and lifts Koutarou’s hips to line himself up. He’s heavy, and it takes a bit of leverage to work him into a stable position. But they need that stable position, because as soon as Akaashi slides home, he rolls himself up Koutarou’s body, bending back his legs until he’s hovering over him, nearly face-to-face.

“How does it feel?” he asks in between chasing the drops of water on Koutarou’s chest with his lips. This close to his hair, the smell of green-apple candy is everywhere.

“A lot,” Koutarou says unhelpfully.

“Does it feel like you might have my cock up your ass?” Keiji asks, with all of the delicacy of a sledgehammer.

Koutarou shivers.

“Would you like a reminder?” Keiji moves his hips slowly, pressing deep.

“Yeah it’s uh… definitely there, babe!”

“Are you sure?” Keiji gently rolls his hips forward. “We need to be certain of such things.” 

“Yeah!” Koutarou pants. “I’m… ha… definitely sure!”

“Okay,” Keiji smiles into Koutarou’s neck. “I’m going to fuck you then.”

And oh, if he doesn’t do it.

He keeps his movements sharp and precise, snapping his hips into Koutarou while his lubed hand gently pumps his cock. It’s a position that requires some balance, but it’s one he’s practiced in.

“Did you lose your towel on purpose this morning?” he asks casually, looking down at the man below him.

Koutarou’s eyes are already glazed over, tears gathering at the corners. 

“No, I… it got caught in the chair… _Keiji!_ If I wanted you to see my ass, you’d know!”

“I should have just taken you over that chair,” he leans down to speak softly into Koutarou’s ear. It reeks of green-apple candy. “Pushed your face into the table and fucked you right next to our breakfast. Maybe you’d limp into the gym. Let all your players know what I’d done to you.”

Koutarou makes a strangled noise. It’s a beautiful sound, and Keiji wants to keep it.

“I could have sucked you off in the izakaya bathroom,” he continues. “Pushed your back into the door and made you promise to be quiet while I licked the head of your pretty cock.”

Pleased by the compliment, Koutarou’s cock jumps in Keiji’s hand.

“What — you like that? Well, it is a very pretty cock. Sometimes I want to show it off.”

Koutarou twitches again, and Keiji finds himself moving faster, harder. Koutarou is perfect around him, hot and soft and slick.

“I’m sure there are people out there who’d love to watch. I could stand behind you and jack you off so they could see how pretty you are when you come. And more importantly, so they’d know you’re mine.”

The legs over Keiji’s arms are trembling. Or maybe it’s his own arms. Either way, someone is shaking, he’s on the verge of coming, and he wants them to come together even if they’re both drunk and he’s been turned on for a good thirteen hours. 

He pulls back and looks into Koutarou’s eyes.

“Would you like to ride me? I’d like to watch.”

“Fuck yeah,” Koutarou says hoarsely. Tears are running down his temples, and he seems hardly lucid, but he liberates himself from Keiji’s grasp with so little effort that his confidence would be shattered were he a lesser man. 

He finds himself on his back just as easily, as Koutarou positions his cock with his thick fingers and sits on it. He’s even tighter this way, and the feeling of being pinned down is delicious.

Not to mention the view.

It’s hard to tell if the liquid running down Koutarou’s body is water or sweat, but the trails catch in the light from their bedside lamp, sparkling. His hair is a disheveled, artful mess, and his eyes are wild.

“Like what you see, babe?” Koutarou rasps just as he moves for the first time.

Keiji’s head slams back against the pillow. Koutarou doesn’t stop rolling against him though he leans forward, framing Keiji’s face with his elbows. Their lips meet, and then they are softly consuming each other, bodies moving together languidly as the pressure between them builds. Keiji reaches between them and begins artlessly jacking Koutarou off.

Everything about it is gentle. Soft. A complete switch from moments before. Nothing like the scenario he’d been imagining all day long. But he feels his balls tightening despite himself.

Koutarou pulls away, and looks down into Keiji’s eyes.

“I love you,” he says.

And Keiji comes. 

 

They’re in a sticky heap on a damp mattress. There’s work tomorrow, and sleep in such a situation is going to prove difficult. But neither of them can be bothered to separate. They’re kissing tenderly, whispering the gentle words of love and devotion that Koutarou deserved during his actual birthday sex. But he’s going to have to settle for romantic post-coital cuddling.

Because, _god_ , Keiji loves him. He loves his kind heart and his strong arms. He loves his need for attention and praise. He loves how he carries their relationship when times get tough. He loves how ridiculous and handsome he looks. He loves how sloppily he eats rice and how he meticulously picks up the kitchen while leaving the rest of their house a mess. Keiji breathes deep, in love with everything about the man in his arms.

Well. Almost everything.

Wiggling free, he jumps off of the bed and runs into the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. He catches himself on the door just as he slips in a puddle of water from their shower. Righting himself, he violently yanks back the curtain and grabs the shampoo, unscrewing the lid as well as his lubey fingers will allow.

“Keiji? What are you doing?” Koutarou’s followed him, though he had the decency to put on some boxers. His hair is now standing up in a fan on the side, the rest of it is plastered to his forehead. Despite recent events, he doesn’t look well-fucked, he looks ridiculous.

“I’m removing green-apple candy from my erotic experience,” Keiji finally unscrews the lid and begins to pour the shampoo into the sink.

“Happy birthday,” he adds as the green liquid slips down the drain. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to mooites for the inspiration to write this. i think my writer's block is finally over.


End file.
